Arctic 0: Episode 1
by Spinner Xeno
Summary: A Russion Akula Class Submarine gets damaged in the south pole with a bunch of nuclear weapons. Palistinian Terrorists and the American Navy both rush to grab control of the sub. More episodes soon! (Over 25 pages!!)


Arctic 0: The Rescue  
  
  
  
By Ben Weller  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Introduction  
  
Sector Arctic 0, 15 miles north of the south pole, under the great ice barrier.  
  
Akula class attack boat, captain Vadim Penasuk commanding  
  
"Cold this morning capitan." Said the first officer, settling down on a chair behind the parascope with a cup of tea. He pulled the furry seal fur jacket over his shoulders. He was a tall Russian from St. Petersburg. He had gone to collage in the United States, Westpoint to be exact, and spoke 3 different languges not including Russian. His name was Petrov, but his fellow officers called him Pete. He was muscular, as most of the XO's of the North Fleet's Akulas' were, a man to be feared in the heat of battle, and respected in the hard work of patrol. The commander, captain Vadim Penasuk, nodded, ajusting the seal skin cap he wore on his head up. Vadim, unlike any crew member on board, was not Russian by birth. He was a hard to the core Ukrainian. He, like Petrov, was a tall, strong and most worthy for a submarine commander. He never faltered while giving his orders and was never questioned by a single member of his crew. His brown eyes twinkled when he laughed, which was rare on patrol, but he always wore something like a smile on his face. "Con, Sonar." Came the voice from the sonar room, just off the con. "We have a stationary contact. It's a stalagmite of ice a little ways to port." "Thank you, Mr. Tupolev," replied Vadim. "Officer of the deck, bring the boat to a 30 degree down bubble, 20 degrees starboard on the bow plains." "aye." Came the voice of the deck officer, Chenyenko. They were just passing under the great ice stalagmite when sonar man William Vlad stopped. He heard something on the top quarter of his sonar. He didn't know if he should sound the captain on a minor tingling he had, so he remained still. But a second later, he heard it again. It was a crack. "Con. Sonar. I. think we have something here." Stammered Vlad. "Con here, what to you hear?" asked Petrov. "I. can't say sir. I swear I heard a cracking sound, and its not the ice." Replied Vlad. Although they didn't know it, what Vlad had picked up on sonar before was not a stalagmite of ice but of rock. Although navigational tactics were ment to prevent such accidents, Penasuk was unaware that the sub had banked to port instead of starboard due to the immobility in the starboard plain. Although reported in tip-top condition before sailing, it had been frozen due to long exposure to sub-arctic temperature. What was really falling was loose bits of rock, falling through the ice glacier on the surface. A massive chunk of rock, 15 feet by 9, slammed into the port side of the Akula's con tower. In the con, everyone was thrown off their feet. "Jesus, Mary and Joesef! What on earth was that?" cried Petrov. "Damage control report!!" yelled Penasuk. The red emergancy lights flickered on in the con, but no reply came from damage control. "God damn you bastards! Damage control!!" yelled Petrov, echoing the captains order. It was then they noticed the dent in the con tower wall, and the com lines broken. "Damn fools! Mr. Petrov, sound the 1MC, raise damage contorl. Officer of the deck, turn the ship around, back towards base, heading 329!" ordered Penasuk. Another chunk of rock, smaller than the first, struck in the aft, bursting a Trident missile hatch. "Missile control, Con! We have a burst hatch on missile 12! Requesting ejection!" came the call from down the hall. "Tell them negative, Petrov! Sound surface alarm, blow main ballest and buency! Emergancy blow, all ahead full! 40 degrees up angle on the bow plains, amidships the rudder! Surface!" cried Penasuk. More rock chunks, some small, some large, hailed around the Akula like an undersea avalanche, and a large chunk larger than most of the others flew down. It slammed into the forward compartments of the engine room, ripping through the sub like an axe. The water tight doors aft shut immediately, but the men in the aft engine room didn't have a chance. The sea rushed in, burning out the electrical system. In the con, Captain Vadim couldn't believe his eyes, as he watched the dive meter hover at 951 feet. The Akula rose another foot, then began to fall. The silence that had momentarly beheld the Con broke loose. The captain heard one man shout, "Were loosing emergancy power!!" This was too much. "Radio, Con!" yelled Penasuk. "Radio to central dispatch Hula. Akula 2, Light December down in north corner of grid Arctic 0! Request assistance!" Radio echoed this into the radio. Just as he finished, the power went dead.  
  
They touched the bottom lightly, the bow slowly settling to the floor.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 1  
  
  
  
Somewhere off the I-95, April 29th 1999  
  
"Please tell me your beautiful driving skills has not gotten us lost AGAIN!?!?" cried Susan, falling back in the seat of the SUV. They had been driving for 8 hours, and had stopped at a rest stop, and lost their way back to the freeway. In the car was Christian Capetta, the skipper of the SSBN Dallas, an Ohio class submarine, and at the wheel was Cameron Stokes, Chris's friend from West Point. He was in command of a Destroyer for the Atlantic fleet. Also in the car was Cameron's girlfriend, Susan and his sister Alice. Even though Chris was still tired from the swim meet in N.J where the Atlantic fleet crews has competed for the annual trophey, he still couldn't resist groaning when he heard Susan utter the cry of dispair. Cameron grinned at them through the rear view mirror. "Minor technical difficulties. Hey those tree's look familier." "The fact that we have passed them 17 times before in the past 2 hours would be a clue." Groaned Susan. "Hey, theres not much else that can go wrong can it?" asked Chris. "Thanks Capetta." Chuckled Cameron. Alice fumed in the back seat, trying to overcome the urge to beat her brother with the wooden spoon she had handy. Alice was one of three female chief of boats in the navy on one of the 10 Ohio class Trident Missile subs. She and Chris were good friends. Suddenly the engine sputtered and the SUV came to a stop. Chris groaned again. "At least I didn't say that when we were running patrols off Japan. I just can't shut up." Cameron winced at the immense bad luck he had had in the past 2 hours. "I wonder how that happened.?" grumbled Cameron. "THE FACT THAT THE FUCKING GAS NEEDLE IS AT E COULD BE THE REASON, SMART ONE!!" cried Susan, throwing her hands up in dispair. "LET ME AT HIM! LET ME AT HIM! NO COURT WILL CONVICT ME!!!!" yelled Alice, lunging at her brother, wooden spoon raised. Chris pulled her back down into the seat. "We might as well stay here the night." Said Chris, who was now sure he wouldn't get home to his wife and kids that night. "No, the knuckle head is driving until we get home. We have a canister of spare gas in the back." Said Alice, opening the door to refill the tank. Cameron took this lull in the huricane to check the road map to see where he was. "It seems we are stuck on the exit ramp to the free way and kept turning off onto a side road." Observed Cameron. Susan slapped herself in the face. "This is one of the 1000 reasons I went out with this guy, thinking he would be navigationally acute unlike my last boyfriend, because he was a battle ship captain." mumbled Susan. "BUT INSTEAD I GET A SKIPPER WHO CAN'T FIND HIS WAY BACK ONTO A FREEWAY WHEN HE'S 2 YARDS FROM IT!!!" Finally, after a while the gas tank was refilled thanks to the effort of Alice, and they were back on the road again. This time Cameron got back onto the freeway. They were somewhere outside Savhanna, Georgia, and had another 2 hours till they reached Kingsbay, their home town. The ladies settled into the 2 back seats to sleep, leaving Cameron and Chris alone up front. Cameron rolled open the sun roof. "What you doing that for?" asked Chris. Cameron sighed. "Whenever I used to be out on 6 month patrol's on the South Dakota, I'd always miss my wife, and I'd breath the sea air and wonder if she was still standing on the dock where I'd last seen her, waiting for me and breathing the same salt air. Then when I came back and found she was dead." Cameron's voice trailed off. Chris was the first one to find Cameron's wife dead. He and some crew members from the Dallas were down at the pier showing off the Dallas' new paint job to family and friends. Cameron's wife, Patrica had been down at the dock, waiting for Cameron to come back that evening, when scafolding strung up along the sides of the South Dakota's sister ship the Mississippi came crashing down, breaking the young woman's back. Chris heard the noise and came running, only to find her dead. The South Dakota pulled in an hour later to find a medical team cutting her from the wreckage. Chris knew the feeling someone close dying, it had happened to his mother. She had died of Cancer. "All right, try not to think about that." Said Chris. Cameron sighed and continued to drive. "Well, I gotta find myself a new reactor room manager, mines got Pnemonia." Sighed Chris, attempting to change the subject from instant death to mild death threat. Cameron piped up. "I have a friend, nice guy. He could fill in if your man doesn't recover before next patrol." Suggested Cameron. "Thanks." Said Chris, and settled back for a nap.  
  
Kingsbay, Georgia, April 30th 1999, at 10:00 AM.  
  
"Hey! I'm home!!" cried Chris, slamming the huge, white door of his home behind him. His young daughter, who had turned 7 only a month before came running down the stairs, leaping into his arms. Half tripping and sliding, his son, who was now 10 shot down the stairs like a bullet, flinging his arms around his father. "I was gone for a week and look! You guys grew!!" laughed Chris. His wife Kim came down the hall from the kitchen. "How was the finals?" she asked. She kissed him, and he back. "Not bad. Jim is one wicked swimmer." Said Chris, reffering to a good friend of his, who had been a on weapons control on the Dallas. "Yeah, sorry I'm late. Cameron's driving skills are so bad I'm surprised he won the top navigaitor award for the Atlantic fleet in 95'!" "Speaking of the Atlantic fleet, a call came for you a few minutes ago. They left the number. I think it's the General." Said Kim, peeling Chris's daughter off him. "All right. Ok, Daddy needs to work now, Ken. Off." Said Chris, peeling his older son off him. He walked up stairs to his bed room, where the number lay beside the phone. Chris took a deep breath and dialed. A man anwesered the phone. "Hello?" asked man. "General Sanders! You called me a moment ago, what is this about? Early patrol?" asked Chris. "No, skipper, Its different. We've received a request from Moscow. They need our assistance. I can't say on the phone, but all I can say, is get your ass down to sublam tonight at 8. I'll breif you there." The General hung up. "Talk about breif. The Russian's could have all our lines tapped to make sure we don't foul up." Grumbled Chris. His wife, who must have heard him hang up, opened the door. "Whats up?" "Special OP for the Russians, who knows." Said Chris. "Told me to get my ass down to sublam at 8." Chris and Kim looked at each other a moment. "Special OP." they both said at once. "I was hoping they wouldn't get you out for another two to three weeks." Said Kim. "Well, you know these navy bastards." Replied Chris. "train they're men so good they can't deceide between em. Why don't they get a frickin database and send someone out who's all ready at arms?" "If those navy guys are bastards, why does my husband work for them?" Chris laughed. "Guess I'm a bastard too."  
  
8:00 PM, Kingsbay navy yard confrence room  
  
General Sander's stood up, as one of his aids shut the door. The whole crew of the Dallas stood before him. The General took a breath. "All right sailors, officers, and skipper. This morning I received a call from the United States embassy in Moscow, and was told that the Russians have a downed sub in sector Arctic 0, in the Anarctic region. You, will be going there to rescue them." Said Sanders. XO Kyle Trinoa raised his hand. "Yes XO." Said Sanders. "Sir. The Ohio can't handle sub-arctic temperatures. Wouldn't it." said Trinoa. "Yes it would, XO, you have a new boat." Broke in Sanders. "I suppose you have been keepng in touch with the navy's new project, the Virgina? Well, your new sub, is a Virgina class attack boat. Lots of high tech toys. Your boat has a new lock out hatch, for 12 men at a time. You are also carrying our Navy's newest rescue sub, Fido. It will be riding behind your con, and will be used to retreive the sailors of the Ruissian sub, which I believe is an Akula. Your con tower has storage lockers to store any equipment needed to rescue the Russians. You have 172 hours to get down to the South Pole and get these men out. Their electrical system is failing and they have only enough power to generate about 72 hours more air. After that, its 3 days until black out. Get there a day ahead of scheduel if you can. We have the whole Atlantic fleet hauling ass down their now to calm them. They can only get as far as the ice barrier." Said Sanders. Chris raised his hand. "Skipper?" asked Sanders. "Yes, when do we leave?" asked Chris. "Midnight. Go home, get packed, and set the dog watch when you get back to the docks. Your in dock 92. My men are putting your sub together as we speak. Go now." Said Sanders. As the meeting ajourned, and everyone began to leave, Kyle approached Chris. "What does this mean, Captain?" asked Kyle. "Means pack some wollies, buster, we got ourselves a trip."  
  
There were 155 men that had made up the Dallas crew were scattered from every state. Just to get into the officers is enough. The XO, Kyle, was from Winsador, Canada. He was dark skinned, dark hair, brown eyes. He was pretty short and then some, but he was never made fun of among the crew (Except for a mild sea gull incident at one cast off but I won't get into that.) The chief of a boat was one of the other three female chief's in the navy, Cate Harris. She, like Chris was also from Georgia, closer to Atlanta. She was quiet an attractive morsel for eyes to chomp on, although she ignored all the whooping which came from the reactor crew every time she made her rounds. She was tall, dark blonde, brown eyed, and not disputed in orders. Officer of the deck had just graduated from West Point, a sassy, but caring Vermonter named Kelsie. She and Cate had been good friends from West Point, although Cate graduated a year before her. Kelsie had quick, dashing movements which Chris always said: "She could trail a jack rabbit at 25 knots at the flanks." One time on menouvers, she had broken an emergancy blow record by 8 knots. Taller than most of the officers, she maintained a friendly, but harse aurora. There were three weapons officers, each with equal skill. Each one of them gay as hell. First, was Jim, a medium build Californian. He always poked sexual fun at all of the male crew members, and never could get a job done without adding a sexual phrase in. Pretty much was the same with the other two, Sanchez and Roticery. The Sonar crew was always on their toes. Ben, a young Brooklynite from New York, was the chief sonar officer, although he would maintain the towed array on the new boat. He was medium sized in height and build with green eyes and dark blonde hair. His sense of hearing was of that of a jack rabbit, and so were his motives to stay away from the weapons officers. Last but certainly not least was watch setter Ali Merkle, the semi-psycho girl who always seemed high on coffee. She was the youngest crew member at age 19, and had taken advantage of the navy to pay for collage. She pioneered the nude strip dancing by the full moon on tropical patrols, and was second victem of the reactor room staff. The weapons officers regarded her as the gayest person on the planet. On the last patrol, she held a toga party in the forward torpedo room which resulted in a mosh pit that broke someones finger. (don't ask.)  
  
Cate shifted the weight of her bag on her shoulder. Seamen only carried three outfits, and changed clothes every other day, so her bag wasn't heavy. Her eyelids were. She had been up the night before, partying like heck about the coming swim finals which she and Chris had gotten in first. They had competed against the crew of the Los Angeles class Idaho. Ben came up along side her. "That's the LAST time I let my girlfriend have a martgarita before cast off." He grumbled. Cate then noticed the black and blue marks on his arm. "What'd she do?" asked Cate, peering through the flying sparks under the work lights in the dock to see their boat. "Well, I told her about going, and she began beating me with a wooden spoon and began rattling on about having an SUV shoved up her." "I get the point." Laughed Cate. She got stories like this from Ben all the time. He never seemed to stop making jokes. "HEY BABES!" it was a nuclear officer shouting from across the yard. Cate flipped him off, and started off towards dock. "I feel your pain!!" called Ben to the nuclear officer. Cate shoved him. "Don't start." More lights shot on revealing the extent of their boat. Everyone except the men working on the boat stopped in awe. This was a real major league whopper! It was a good 1,200 feet long, with the blue paint. The number on her con tower read SSBN 52. Raised letters on her bow showed her name. The Neptune. Typical, thought Cate. Name the bloody boat after a sea god. "I keep telling you its shaped like a penis!" cried Jim, coming up behind them. He and Roticery were arguing over what the sub was shaped like. Cate groaned, and started towards the gang way, where Chris and the officers were gathering the ranks to make an announcement. "Attention!!" called Chris. Everyone snapped up straight. "XO, make a head count." After a few minutes, Kyle finished checking people off his board. "All accounted for except for the reactor crew, their below." Said Kyle. "Thank you. At ease." Said Chris. Everyone relaxed. "All right, I know a few people misunderstood General Sander's breifing and slash or have questions." Said Chris. "The General believes we may have some hostile company on this mission for some reason, so he told us to load tubes. This sub runs just like our old Dallas but has some jinks thrown in, and she's just 200 so feet bigger and a few 100 tons more massive. Now I'll set rescue team members when were underway and I know some of you have combat experience from the army. No worrys, all combat operations if needed will be carried out by the officers. Any questions?" No one responded. "All right. Get your shit below. We leave in 30 minutes." Said Chris. 30 minutes was slack compared to what other skippers had them do. 10 minutes to get down and stowed, 5 minutes to get rope crews up and ready, another 5 minutes to set the dog watch, (done by Ali, who could round up a watch in 3 and a half minutes). The last 10 minutes were used for checking equipment. The chief of boat and XO were kept on their toes for the 20 minutes before cast off to aid crew members and call out stations. The skipper would make sure everyone did his job, and make sure anyone who didn't have a job got one. Kyle and Cate got together quickly and began giving commands. Cate found 18 strong men for rope crew, while Kyle called Ali out for the dog watch. Chris went back to check on the Fido. It was hooked on basic. Attached to the Neptune by 6 lines. The thing was supported by a scaffold, which would not be present on their Russian sub. Chris knew this tactic. The new Fido had been fitted with a docking collar so they could lock into the aft hatch of the Akula, if it was right side up. He then went aft to check on the Sonar array. Sander's had breifed him on how to use it. Just as simple as the one on the Dallas. Hooked on from below, with a hatch to climb into for mantinence. The one feature the new sub had was a duct covering its propeller. It sheilded noise from the ship so it wouldn't interfere with the sonar, and the array. The sub also had to extra fins, which were diagonal to the main rudder. These made the sub so much more menuverable and were the attachment to the sonar array. 20 minutes were up. Rope crews were in place, Chris and Kyle on the bridge with the topside watch. "Reactor room reports go. Everything is in place." Reported Cate from down the hatch. "All right. XO, call cast off." Said Chris. "CAST OFF!!" cried Kyle. Chris turned to everyone on the shore. There were families watching the boat leave. He spotted Kim and his kids and waved to them. He felt like a roll model. His son Ken had always wanted to be a skipper on a battle ship. Whenever he left, his son told him not to get killed by "Them damn germans." He didn't know that WW2 was over by about 50 years. A tug appeared astern and began to back the giant boat out of her slip. Even though Kelsie was confused about why the order hadn't came to turn the engine's on, she didn't know that 6 feet under the tug's screws was the giant propellar duct that would have capsized the tug if it had been turned on. Finally, when the tug went began to move out to pull the sub, Chris ordered a slow 5 knot reverse. Rope crews waved as they stowed ropes, jumped back on the sub from the dock, and slapping hands with their buddies. None of them had ever been on a special OP. As Chris watched his wife, who had ran to the end of the slip. He knew something was going to happen to them. Something to get in their way and he didn't know what. A few minutes later, the giant boat was turned away from them, under her own power, and lumbering towards the mouth of the bay. "Skipper! Dispatch reports two destroyer escorts coming to bring us out." Called Cate through the hatch. Within 5 minutes with the destroyers along side, the Neptune left the harbor behind. 10 watch men were aloft, 6 astern, and 4 on the head. Chris peered into the night ahead of them. "Skipper, another dispatch, from our port escort, Oklahoma. Their going to break off so we can dive!" came another call from Cate. Chris grinned. Duck dive. "XO, get the watch below. Were going down." Said Chris. Kyle grinned as he gave out the stowing order. Soon, everyone was below, and it was time to close up the ship. Kyle made one last check, then ordered the closing of the main inductions. Then he and the con watch went below, leaving Chris aloft alone. Taking one last breath of salt air, Chris slid down the hatch. He watched the big cover come over the bridge. He closed the hatch above him, and slid down into the hall which lead to the con. Chris approached his table in the con where his charts were laid. He fixed out the fastest course to the crash site. He walked over to the parascope which rose. "All right guys, open buency, 10 degree down angle on the bow plains. Raise this thing to 91% speed, 35 knots." Said Chris. Kelsie repeated the order, and drove the sucker under. At 60 feet, Chris downed the parascope, and settled back into a seat behind the parascope. "All right, were off to ice land. Everyone except the officers, clear the con." Said Chris. All the crew members left. Once everyone had left the con, Chris sighed, which a second later was puncuated by a loud creak from the now closed main inductions. "All right. We got a Russian in distress with no electrical power, frightened men on board and a 2 fish advantage. Whats the plan?" asked Chris. Kyle spoke up. "I say we send some officer's in first, see what the deal is, try to calm them, then send a few men to get em out. Bring fresh oxygen tanks too." Suggested Kyle. Chris nodded. "That's a good plan. Any one want to add something?" asked Chris. Ali piped up. "I forgot my bathing cap." Cate and Kelsie groaned. "Any SERIOUS questions." Asked Chris. "Yes. Should we be armed?" asked Ben. "Dunno what you guys say, but I can't fire a gun." "We will be armed, in case of emergancy. I got a funny feeling its no sweat." Said Kelsie. "No that's not what I ment. I can't. kill anyone." Said Ben, rubbing the back of his neck. "First off, its gonna be sweat, cause these guys will be freezing out of their wits by the time we get down there, and they'll be skittish. They probably don't know what hit em." Said Kelsie. "And again, Ben, you won't need to use it." "Ok guys, get to stations, and lets call it a night!" said Kyle.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Sector Flordia Keys 03, 6:03 AM, SSBN Neptune  
  
  
  
Chris loved watching the sun rise. The Neptune was on the surface and Chris on the con tower with Kyle. Kyle, who didn't sleep very well first night out, was holding a cup of coffee which read, "I've heard of Jet lag but Sub lag?" Cate was on the bow, watching the sunrise from her point of view. She was sitting right on the Trident missile hatch. It always had a warm feeling to it. She checked her watch, knowing she had to make her rounds when the sun rose. 6:05. Great. Time to head to the sex dead beats in the reactor room, Thought Cate. She stood up, and walked towards to con tower and climbed up, giving Chris and the half dead Kyle a good morning. She slid down the hatch and just so happened to pass Ali on her way to the reactor room. Cate shot her a "You-will-die-if-you-do-this-to-me-again" glare. She entered the reactor room to hear whoops of flirtation going up all over the place. "Darn their still alive." Grumbled Cate. "just gotta find Jake and get outta here." She approached the man standing at the chief reactor station. She tapped him. A complete stranger turned around and grinned at her. It wasn't Jake, the reactor room manager. "Hey. Top of the morning to ya." Said the strange guy. "H-hello. Where's Jake?" asked Cate, over the loud whoops from the crew and reactors. "You mean the manager? Jake got sick before we sailed. Pnemonia. I took over for him. The name's Zack. Your chief of boat eh?" he asked. This guy was real casual. "Yeah. How is everything going down here?" she yelled over the noise. "Perfecto!" he laughed. His voice thundered and his green eyes shined. He sipped some coffee, and set it down. "You and Jake are so much alike!" yelled Cate over the din. "Jake and you are the only non-flirts I've ever met in the reactor room!" Zack laughed again. Zack was medium build, but tall. He wore an undershirt with a rip in it and baggy green pants. The Reactor guys were the only guys allowed to dress slack. "All right. I'll be going." Said Cate. "Good bye, mam'" called Zack. He's polite, thought Cate, as she dodged some guy trying to grab at her breasts. She walked briskly from the room. She approached the con to see Chris back down in the con, sipping coffee. "That's the last time I allow Dog Watch master Ali to put my rounds in the reactor room. Who's the new reactor dude?" asked Cate. "Zack Ibrach. Jake's got pnemonia. He didn't make the swimming finals." Said Chris. "Polite fella." Commented Cate. "Tell me about it. The guy calls me skipper for a non formal meeting." Laughed Chris. "I gotta check the second dead beat club down in the torpedo room." Said Cate. "Make sure they don't sucker up anymore god damn mosh pits, Chief." Said Chris.  
  
Sector Arctic 02, May 1st, 1999 Atlantic fleet  
  
"Captain, the South Dakota, Mississippi, and Ohio are on their way down, 15 miles out, sir." Said the frail seaman. The captain, Captain Henderson Skates V, nodded to the seaman. "Thank you, Peters. Return to station." Said Skates. The Air Craft carrier he was in command of, the USS Anchorage, was anchored 1000 feet off the great ice barrier, 2 miles from the Russian sub's position. 2 ice breaker's had charged through the ice, trying to pave a path for the 78 ships at anchore. Their carrier, along with the other 14 carriers off the barrier were letting off Black Hawk helecopters, F14's, and other planes ferrying supplies to a base being set up over the Russian's position. Skates looked proudly out over this spectical, taking in every detail. The XO came onto the bridge, and began talking immediately, inturupting the captains thoughts. "Sir, General Sanders called in. The SSBN Neptune set sail last night, and is passing the Bahamas as we speak. They'll be down in 48 hours." Said the XO. "Thank you XO." Said Skates. "He would like to speak to you sir." Said XO, holding up a phone. Skates picked it up. "Yes, General?" "Hello skipper Skates. We have received a report from Sublam this morning about two Akula class stolen Palestinian subs heading your way. Their supposadly after the missiles on the damaged Light December." Came General Sanders voice. "I'll be on the look out, sir." Said Skates. "It's no joke, skipper. Their heavy loaded with Mk48's and 65's enough to whip a carriers ass and suck tit and pussy from 20 miles out. I'd get my best Black Hawks and bombers down there on sight. You can track 60 miles plus with your radar, so use it. If they come within 60 miles, blast those two Palestine bastards clear out of the water." Replied Sanders. "I will sir." Said Skates. "The Russian's are putting presure on us, Skates, you have the best skills out there, and we need em to sink these Palestine bastards and get those Russian's outta there. Farewell." And he hung up. Skates groaned. Two bogies coming from the Med and a sitting duck under the ice. This was going to be rough, and for all he knew, these damn Middle Easterner's could be fuckin' civilians. He didn't want to take chances though, for as he knew, taking the wrong chances could jeapordize lives, and all he didn't want was $10 million in damage. He snapped the order's immediately. "O.K people! XO, send word to the fleet we got two Palestinian theives in two Akula's bearing down on us like fish on a lure. Chief, send word to Sonar to keep an ear out in the water for those two bogeys. We don't know what these sucker's are loaded with except 48's and 65's so we need Helo's and Black Hawks on patrol asep. We need to keep our guard up gentelmen!" Within 5 minutes, 8 Black Hawks and 6 Other Helo's were airborne and patroling, his best sonar men in the phones, and every skipper in the fleet with their ears in the water. Skates smiled at his crew's promptness. He kept on his toes though, for all he knew, the Palestinians were at 70 miles and closing.  
  
Chris had resolved to keep the sub underwater to go faster. He pushed the new sub to the limits. He had just under 48 hours to get his subs metal ass down to the south pole and 24 hours to get the men out. According to several calls from the head boat down at the border sector, that they would make a 30 minute stop for extra gear and to unstrap the Fido, then haul metal ass down there. His skipper's intellegence told him to hang back a few yards and ping to the sub. If he heard hammer taps, bubble release, anything, he'd send his guys in there. Cate and Kelsie both spoke a little Russian, and three crew members spoke it fluently. Kelsie, in the meantime, had been awake for 48 hours. She could go for a week without sleep and still be alert and on top. One evening, with 19 hours to go till they reached the outer rim station, there was some slight commotion. Chris, was napping in the con. One ear always open and took in anything to be heard. Ben was wide awake. He sipped some coffee. Hell, if I didn't want to go 72 hours a friggin week without sleep I wouldn't have joined the navy. He thought. Like Chris, he always kept an ear in the water, and another ear in the sub. His computer man tonight was a young collage graduate named Jason O'Neil. The kid had talent. He was skinny and had slightly brown skin. He was from Southern California where his family had immigrated. He earned his American citizenship with his father through migrant farming, earning money to pay for collage at the U of R in Redlands. The kid could read a computer faster than the 145 MPH Acela from Boston to D.C. Ben really appreciated the help because unlike Kelsie, when he got tired, he got tired. Three cups of coffee were all that stood between him and sleep. Ali came in on her nightly rounds. She slapped O'Neil on the back. The two, although Ben didn't know it, had been going out since last patrol, which explained the un-flirtatiousness in Ali durning the past day an a half. O'Neil leaned back and kissed Ali on the cheek. "How was rounds?" asked O'Neil. "The usual." Said Ali. "dead beats in the reactor and cum guzzlers in the torpedo room." Ben laughed. He liked hearing Ali talk to people. Although when he and Ali talked, she regarded him as some sort of scary freak with a deep voice, he always regarded her as a "humor sister." Cate came in on Security rounds with XO Kyle. The two normally split up at night, and did rounds in the afternoon, but after the Palestinian reports came in, the deceided to cover Sonar and Torpedo together, since they both had different and similar questions to ask. Kyle, like Ben was tired and bitchy as a Bull shark at mating season. Cate, as usual was up and perky; ready go ready. "Anything to report?" muttered Kyle, stumbling in. "Nothing but whales humping." Replied Ben, taking another sip of coffee. Just like on patrol, thought Ben, but more tense. They had a job to do. Kyle half laughed half snorted. "Any surface contacts?" asked Cate. She must have been the only person in the room without coffee besides O'Neil. "Couple fishing trawlers here and there, most of em a few miles out." Answered Ben. Cate nodded and walked out. Kyle stood there, as usual, monitering progress although the only progress he wished he was monitering was when he was allowed to go to bed. He was as tired as a slapped bitch. Nothing new tonight, thought Ben. He slipped the other headphone onto his right ear. A second after he did he heard commotion on the surface. "Whoa!!" he cried. "Snorkler!!" Chris was awake in a second. "Repeat that, Sonar?" he asked. "Con Sonar, surface contact bearing Sierra 25." Reported Ben. He leaned back to see what O'Neil had dug out of the computer. He couldn't believe his eyes. "Low loaded, Akula Class submarine, and she's blowing air. She's not alone sir, we have another contact bearing Sierra 26. She's a mile astern." Cate leapt into the con. "Its those blasted Palestinians. Should we take battle positions?" "We don't even know if their the Palestinians." Replied Chris. "I know Russians, and they don't travel two sub classes together. Alfa and Akula maybe but not two Akula." Said Cate. "Any signs to them averted to our presence, Sonar?" asked Chris. ".uh. No sir. One's snorkling and the other's just behind, taking no action against us. Hell, were to quiet to be heard anyway." Replied Ben. "Let the sucker blow air. The guys down at the pole were wrong, they're not after us, just drug smugglers perhaps." Said Chris. "So much for maintaining law and order." Mumbled Ali.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Book II: Aqua Strike  
  
19 hours later, SSBN Neptune.  
  
"All right, Officer of the deck, 30 degrees up angle on the bow plains, Blow suppression." Ordered Chris. A moment later, the SSBN Neptune shot from the waves like a breaching whale. "Look outs up!" ordered Cate. She and Chris climbed up into the conning tower. The fleet was 1000 feet away and the Neptune was making a steady 17 knots towards them. "Keep your eyes peeled for the USS Anchorage." Ordered Chris. "Got my Binocs on her now, sir." Said Cate. With back and forth orders from Kelsie to the con tower, they slowly pulled themselves along side the Anchorage. Rope teams lashed the two boats together, and a giant stairway was lowered next to the con tower for Chris to climb. "Wait here." He told Cate. "I'll see what the deal is." And up he went. Captain Skates met him at the top of the stair way. "Hello, Skipper." Said Skates, extending his hand. "Christain Capetta, SSBN Neptune." Said Chris, shaking Skates' hand. "Just got a call in from Sanders. Your about 12 hours early. These guys have 48 hours till black out, so get them out of there. We set up a small base down there, but had to withdraw because of a snow storm." Said Skates. Chris looked across the Anchorage's deck to the Ice where giant clouds shot snow and ice all over the place. "You going to wait till it lets up?" asked Chris. "Hells no, if your going in, we're going in!" replied Skates. "We got a long channel we burrowed down there yesterday. Take 14 men at a time in the Fido, and bring em up to the destroyers we'll have waiting." Chris admired how Skates had planned this out. "Air support?" asked Chris hopefully. "26 Helo's and 15 Black Hawks, three each have medical supplies." Replied Skates. "Perfect." Said Chris. "When do you want to move?" "The sooner, the better. The weather may worsen." Said Skates. "Now. Get orders out to the fleet, send 4 destroyers max. We ran into two Akula's a mile apart on the way over. They were low loaded." Stated Chris. "We got their armed with Mk 48's and 65's. You?" asked Skates. "Same. We're out." Said Chris. The second Chris was back in the con of the Neptune, Cate questioned him on there orders. "Unstrap the Fido chief, and get the men into teams. You, chief reactor officer, and Weapons officer Jim are going in first to calm the men on the sub. Jim will pilot the Fido, and O'Neil will come along." Ordered Chris. "Why O'Neil?" asked Cate. "He speaks Russian. He learned it in Collage." Replied Chris. Kyle had five men up to unstrap the Fido in 10 minutes, and rope crews loosened the lines on the sub. The sub floated free, got her screw going, and in 20 minutes, the 25,000 ton Neptune was underwater and heading towards the damaged Russians  
  
5 minutes later, Sector Arctic 0, NFS Light December, Akula Class attack boat. "Captain, we have 6 hours of emergancy juice left in the forward bats to keep air going." Said Petrov sadly. Penasuk pounded the charts table. "Those god damn Americans are up there and aren't moving!! What the hell is the matter?!" yelled Penasuk, but just as he said this, a loud ping sounded through the con, then pinging in morse code. Only Petrov knew English. "They want to know if we're alive!" he yelled. "Someone, give me a hammer!"  
  
A trembling seaman tossed him a flash light. It slammed into the side, and Petrov caught it. He began tapping back a reply. We are alive. Send help now. They waited for a reply. More tapping sounded. Petrov tried to make it out.  
  
"Something. Sending small. marine. I think their sending a small dog sub to get us out." Mumbled Petrov. Penasuk sighed with releif, the first time the crew had heard him do so. "Wait, their asking how many we have alive and how many we lost." Said Petrov. He hammered back. 19 dead, all aft, 121 alive.  
  
On the SSBN Neptune  
  
"They only have 121 alive? That'll be about." Said Kyle doing the math. "29 trips. Lets go." Chris lead O'Neil, Cate, Zack, and Jim to the Fido hatch. "Hey, Jim. Gun." Said Cate, handing Jim a gun. Jim shook his head. "I can't shoot anyone. Only screw em." "Do just that. Ok guys. Have fun." Said Chris. Everyone got into Fido, and Jim shut the hatches. Jim grinned at O'Neil. "Lets fuck." O'Neil ignored him. Jim crawled into the control seat. He flipped the thing on. Lots of lights came on. The entire compartment's lighting went on. The Fido could fit 14 other people. Jim slipped a giant head set on. "Testing, 69, 69." Said Jim. "All right!!! Jim, get em out." Replied Chris. Jim peered through the little porthole in the front of the Fido. "Flooding the collar." Reported Jim, as a loud sucking sound came from beneath everyone's feet. "Ok Jim, move her out slowly, you have a locked out pair of divers coming out." Reported Chris through the radio. "No prob. Reversing engine." Said Jim, releasing the locks and slowly backing the Fido off its support scaffold. Two men appeared out of the hatch, moving forward towards the con tower. Jim then slid the stick to the left, moving the small Fido over the sub's aft decking. "Alllll right. We've cleared the Neptune. See you sexy things in a few hours." Reported Jim. He drove the Fido into a 30 degree down bubble dive, and set the targeter onto the Akula. "3400 yards and closing." Said Jim. Cate, who was tense from the lift off, slowly leaned back against the side.  
  
"You nervous?" asked Zack. "I." said Cate. "Come on, you can admit it." Said Zack. "Yeah, I'm nervous." Admitted Cate. "Are you?" ".I'm not going to think about it." Said Zack. "I've always had a thing for Russians." "A good thing or bad thing?" asked Cate. "A good thi.." "200 yards." Said Jim. "125. 100 yards and still closing. 75. 50. 25.. I have visual." The sub slowed, and Jim switched on the lights. "Sweet lord of straight men." gasped Jim. "Lemme see." Said Cate, peering out the window. "Move close, its easier to see." Said Jim, peering out the left porthole. Cate did, and gasped. The sloped con tower of the Akula had a giant dent in it. Little dents were all over the place. Jim moved the Fido aft, where another giant dent had ripped right through the sub. A missile hatch hung on by a cord, floating freely infront of them. "Lets get these guys out." Said O'Neil. Jim brought the Fido down right behind the bridge and locked on. "Were docked. Drying the collar." Said Jim, pressing a button. O'Neil removed the hatch cover. A giant, frosty looking steal hatch was infront of them. O'Neil drew his gun and banged it three times on the hatch, then sheathed it. A second later, commotion was heard from inside, and a tall muscular man opened the hatch. "Americans?" he asked in plain, fluent English. "Damn straight. Robert O'Neil, SSBN Neptune." Said O'Neil, smiling. "Does your whole crew speak english?" "I'm afriad not, Mr. O'Neil. I am Jocev Petrov, Executive Officer of the NFS Light December." Said Petrov. "And I am Cate Harris, Chief of boat on the SSBN Neptune. May we come aboard?" asked Cate. Petrov turned around and said something in Russian. Someone down the hatch laughed. Cate suspected him asking the man: Do you want to be rescued? "Da! Da!" said the man down the hatch. "Come aboard, my friends." Said Petrov. O'Neil dropped down the hatch. At least 20 men were huddled in the tight Con. They glared at O'Neil with cold eyes. Geez dude, I thought us guys were cival with each other after the cold war. Thought O'Neil. Cate dropped down the hatch. One of the sailors grinned and began talking to his buddies in rapid Russian. "Oh no. not them too?" groaned Cate. "My men are all single, Chief, you have to excuse them." Chuckled Petrov. Jim leapt down the hatch. "Whoa. Sex central. Should we get em up?" asked Jim. "Any day." Replied O'Neil. "Ok! Ok! People! Your all very sexy and." started Jim. "They only speak Russian my friend." Said Petrov. "And I do not believe my men are looking for a male partner." "That's all right, I have a boyfriend anyway." Replied Jim. He began speaking to the men in rapid Russian, gesturing at some men. 14 men stood up, and formed a line at the ladder to the Fido.  
  
Jim climbed back into the Fido. It was crowded in there with 14 other guys. The last guy climbed in behind him. He was fat with golden dredlocks. "Rich would have hated this." Said the man in english in a giggly tone. "You speak english?" asked Jim to the man in Russian. "No. I learned it at gay American amusement park." Replied the fat guy in Russian. Jim grinned at him, and closed up the Fido.  
  
Surface Station Arctic 0, Over the crash site.  
  
A long blue sub surfaced in the cut up ice. The Senteries spotted it immediately, and began readying the gangway to get ready to get the men out. The little sub pulled up, and the men lowered the gangway. A young man knocked twice on the hatch, then pulled back. Within a few minutes, the 14 Russians from inside the Fido were out and on their way to the med tents for checks.  
  
Meanwhile, on the USS South Dakota, Commander Cameron Stokes' boat.  
  
"Radio, Con. Fleet command reported a second ago that Fido command reported in. They have all living crew members at the rescue base." Came the report on the 1MC. "Thank you Radio." Said Cameron. He walked out onto the wing brige on the port side of the ship, and looked out across the fleet. They were on the border of the fleet, patroling around the sides on sonar duety making sure that the Palestinians weren't in the area. Cameron patted a binocular man on the shoulder and switched to the starbored side. They were between the fleet and open ocean. Cameron took out his binoculars and scanned the horizon. Not a thi. "Con, Sonar! Hydraphone effect! Incoming MK 68 torpedo bearing Sierra 166!" cried the 1MC. Cameron shot into action. "Sweet god, Skates was right." Mumbled Cameron. "helmsman, swing to starboard! Full on engines one and two. Three and four full reverse! Move!!" Cameron, while quickly assessing their situation and other ways to get out of it, shot out onto the starboard wing bridge again. About a quarter mile off and closing fast was a white streak which signified an incoming MK68 on the surface. "Radio, Con. Report to all available Destroyers, USS South Dakota, Emergancy and under fire! Request assistance!" yelled Cameron, swinging around, knocking the binoculars out of a lookouts hands. "Air control! Get our Black hawk in the air! Full arms and alert! Weapons control! Get our forward deck guns up and running!" after spewing out all these orders back into the Con and hearing them echoed by his Executive Officer, returned to watching the oncoming torpedo. It was headed aside them and changing course. "Helmsman! All engine's full!" cried Cameron. The XO echoed the order and the boat shot forwards. Suddenly it occurred to Cameron that if he allowed the torpedo to pass he'd be letting it straight into the fleet. "Cancel the order!" yelled Cameron. "Hard to port! Head for the ice and straighten out! Full ahead! Emergancy service on all four! Go!!!" "Con, Sonar, Submerged contact bearing Sierra 167. and another on Sierra 173! Designated Akula Class submarines on low load!" reported Sonar. Cameron's lightning fast brain concocted another order as the Black Hawk screamed off the aft pad, heading towards the two subs. He saw them approaching the ice fast. This would be crazy and he could only hope the ice went as deep as he thought. "Helmsman! One and two full reverse! Turn hard to starboard, then go dead stop!!" yelled Cameron. The huge destroyer cavitated violently and swung around. They were mere meters from the icey shore. He watched the torpedo swing around, headed directly for their stern. "300 feet and closing fast!" reported sonar. All eyes in the Con were on the skipper. He gripped the wing bridge rail so hard his knuckles were white. His teeth were gritted. "200 feet. closing awfully fast!!" "Captain!! Do something.!" cried his XO. "100 feet..!" Cameron's hand shot up and his index finder directed at the helmsman. "Full ahead!!" The boat instantly cavitated and shot forwards. The torpedo didn't have the swing room it needed, and slammed into the ice. An Explosion blasted a 35 foot wall of water over the deck. The South Dakota slid away without damage. Cameron breathed a sigh of releif.  
  
On the USS Anchorage  
  
The explosion made every man on the Anchorage's heart skip a beat and a half, and stand dead still. Two Akula class subs were closing in. Skates didn't waste a second. "Sweet wounded Jesus!" he yelped. "Get Black Hawks in the air with MK 80 torpedos to boot!" Then, "Get word out to the Neptune to stand off! Get Destroyers out there!" Down in Sonar, Sonarman Sol-leks Ashman, a young man with Eskimo Heritage straighened his ears to the water. All he heard was two Los Angeles class subs and the rest of the fl. Wait for a second. Thought Sol-leks. That Neptune is the only sub out there, right? "Con Sonar. Do we have any Los Angeles class boats out here?" asked Sol- leks. Skates heart skipped another beat. "No, why?" "We have two Los Angeles class subs, 500 feet down heading under the edge of the fleet. One is bearing Sierra 167 and 173." Replied Sol-leks. Skates and every man on the bridge stopped dead. They were impersonating Los Angeles Class submarines!  
  
On the SSBN Neptune. "Jim just reported his last trip. He's dropped off the Russian crew men and are coming back for Cate and Zack who remained aboard." Said Kyle, hanging up the hydraphone. Chris grinned at Kyle. "Mission successfu.." "CON! SONAR! HYDRAPHONE EFFECT! MK 45 TORPEDO BEARING SIERRA 173. AND CONTACT LOS ANGELES CLASS ATTACK BOAT!" Ben's words cut like knives through the con. "How many yards?" asked Kyle snapping to attention. "600 yards and closing!" replied Ben. "Impossible! No Sub can sneak up on us that fast. What the hell are LA's firing at us for?" cried Kyle. "Damned if I know! Radiomen, send out a negitive on Jim's return!" ordered Chris. "We can't do anything." Said Kyle. "What?" "We need Zack to get the moters going." "The torpedo is closing faster! 300 yards!" cried Ben from Sonar. "Release countermeasures!" yelled Chris. Counter measures sprouted from the top of the sub and began releasing giant bubble clouds. The torpedo veered off its path and kept going off into the blue.  
  
Meanwhile, back on the Fido.  
  
Cate slammed the hatch and locked it. Jim released the Fido and a huge blast of bubbles seered into where they had been before. "Did the Neptune dodge the torpedo?" asked Zack. "Apparently." Replied Jim. He set the screw to full ahead and tracked his way back to the Neptune.  
  
Chris knew these weren't Los Angeles class subs on his sonarman's sets. Luckly, 10 minutes after he sent the call, the Fido was in and docked and Zack in the torpedo room. Jim leapt back into his weapons chair. Chris sighed with releif. "All right. Lets find out what these suckers are." Said Chris. "Weapons control. Load tubes 3 and 4 and lock solution for launch." "Tubes set, sir." Said Sanchez. "Lock onto target Sierra 173." Ordered Chris. "Locked and loaded." "Fire." The MK 80 left the tubes and accelerated to 35 MPH. It headed directly past the bow of the first Akula, Sierra 167, and headed right for 173. Lucky for them, the skipper on 173 was no bogey, and released countermeasures and swung his boat's stern away before the torpedo could change course. He then repositioned the sub and unleashed a hound of his own. "Con Sonar! Hydraphone effect, bearing Sierra 174! Incoming, MK 48 torpedo!" yelled Ben. O'Neil leapt into his computer chair and began tracking its course and possible menouvers. "30 degree down angle on the bow plains, and come about 180 degrees." Ordered Chris. O'Neil computer this. His screen showed negative. "Sir! The computer chewed on it and it says negative!" yelled O'Neil. Chris knew O'Neil and the computer and both were reliable as the Sunset. He pondered the best possible position and found none. "Wait. How thick is the ice here, Jim?" asked Chris, knowing Jim had seen. "150 yards!" yelled Ben. "Thin sir, a foot or less." Said Jim. "30 degrees up! Emergancy blow!" yelled Chris. The Neptune shot forward like a fish on a line, did a 90 degree turn, and shot surface bound at 42 knots Kelsie held the sub steady and tried to squeeze more power from the new Virginia's reactor. 42.5 knots. 43.44.44.5.. Chris held tight to his seat. "Lets see how the new sub flies." Kelsie turned to him. They were going at 53 knots, 23 knots over the norm, with the torpedo at 10 yards and closing. "We're about to find out." About 100 yards from the ice base, there was quiet a commotion. The Ice blasted to bits as a giant blue sub shot 3 feet clear of the water and slammed back down onto the ice. A torpedo left the water right behind it and thanks to a special arming mechinizim, bounced off the Neptune's con tower and rolled off her fore deck, sinking with the sub back into the depths. Whoops and cheers and slapping on the back was going on throughout the con.  
  
Kelsie was half smiling in a state of self shock at what she had just done as Cate, Kyle and about 30 other of the ships company shook her and slapped her on the shoulder. Chris's distinctive voice cut through the din. "Were not out of the woods yet." Said Chris. "Con Sonar, We had the array in high speed tow mode. The LA's now read to be two Akula class submarines." Said Ben. "Whoa! Another Hydra. Double Hydraphone effect! Two torpedo's bearing Sierra 165 and 174!" "Not again. Evasive menouvers! Weapons control! Load one and two, lock solution, then load 3 and 4!" yelled Chris. "Countermeasures on my mark!" "300 and 350 yards!" yelled Ben. "Steady." said Chris. Kelsie thumbed the countermeasures trigger. "200 and 250. Their gaining!!" "We're good." said Chris. "100 ya." "RELEASE COUNTERMEASURES!" Kelsie would have released them if he ment it or not, for two more canisters shooting bubbles were released topside of the ship. One torpedo went seeking for the countermeasures, but the other slammed into the Sub's sonar array and exploded. The array cable which had been under preasure rip sawed back to the boat, tearing a gash just so many feet forward of the propellar duct. "Damage control reports sea water in frame 203! Water tight doors stopped at propellar duct frame holder!" reported Cate. "Aye! Go back there and check!" yelled Chris. Kelsie pulled the sub into a 180 turn. "Fire 3 and 4!" yelled Chris. The two fish left the tubes.  
  
Cate pulled open the door of the reactor room to see a frenzy. Hoses were bent and twisted all over the place. Men were slipping and sliding on the sea water floor, putting out small electrical fires. "Zack!" she called. A huge blast of sparks shot from the opposite wall. "He's over there! We need help!" called a reactor staffer. Cate rushed up to the railing where the huge reactor sat. Hanging from a reactor pipe above the reactor was Zack. Below him, twisting metal pistens.  
  
Cate's lower jaw went up and down and up twice, then she did the thing that would probably change her life. She looked across and saw a ladder going up the reactor, and a beam going out just under Zack, who was now trying to climb up the pipe. She leapt out, over the pistons, and slammed into the ladder. She slid down a bit, and hung on, then began to climb. "Hang on Zack! Just a few seconds!" cried Cate. "Go Chief!" yelled a reactor staffer. She kept climbing. Suddenly the sub listed sharply as Kelsie pulled the sub into another turn. Then.  
  
"100 yards!!" cried Ben. Another torpedo was bearing down on them. Their fish were straight and true towards the first Akula. "Impact!!" cried Ben. The first Akula blew to pieces and sank. "50 yards!!" cried Ben. It was headed for their stern. Chris knew they couldn't avoid collision. He turned to Kyle. "I'm sorry." Chris said. The torpedo blasted the duct to shreds. The first damage was to the aft wall of the reactor room. The Duct disintagrated, and shards of wreckage flew about in a frenzy throughout the reactor room. Cate hung on to the beam for dear life. Zack's fingers slipped and he fell. "Yaaa!" he yelled, his hands flailed wildly. Cate grabbed one of his hands, and then the other. The second most damage was to the aft super structure. The walls of the sub, which were hollow, were ripped open and water shot every which way into the wall frames. Pipes burst and the first reactor automaticly shut down. The reactor men had no other choice but to flee into the electrical room and shut the door. The force of all the explosions flung Cate and Zack to the floor. She leapt up, hauled the unconcious Zack up, threw him over her shoulder and rushed in through the water tight door just as it shut.  
  
The propellar was intact. That was the first thing damage control reported, but sadly, they had lost their reactor. They only had electrical power to navigate. Ben was ready to shut down Sonar to conserve electricity when he heard the unthinkable. "Con Sonar!!" yelled Ben. "Turn your gear off!" barked Chris. "Hydraphone effect! 4 torpedos bearing Sierra 166!" yelled Ben. "Emergancy blow, blow main ballast, up angle on the plains." Said Chris. "Dunno how were gonna make it outta this one." "1900 yards!" cried Ben. "This is it." Said Chris sadly. He picked up the 1MC, preparing to give his speech to the doomed sailors, when an idea popped into his head. "Weapons control. Authorize Nuclear Silo 2. Target Sierra 163." "What!?!?" cried Kyle. "We can't fire a nuclear weapon!!" "Do we have another choice?" asked Chris. "N." "Locked and loaded." Said Roticery. "Fire!" yelled Chris. The entire sub shook as the giant trident missile left the forward tube. It shot through the ice, up into the air. "We may not make it, but neither will they." Explained Chris. "Emergancy blow, blow main ballast!" The missile shed its booster, aimed, and dropped through the ice. The Akula which was preparing another shot was blasted to shreds, just as the Neptune shot from the waves onto thick ice.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Book III: Epolouge  
  
Chris insisted to General Sanders that he allow his withered and damaged sub back into Kingsbay under her own power. So it happened, and the whole Atlantic fleet assembled in the navy yards to escort in the battle scared Neptune. As soon as the sub docked in her dry dock, one of her aft seals burst and the sub settled slowly to the floor. Chris ordered the sub evacuated. As soon as Chris stepped off the sub, the navy honered him with a 1000 gun solute. In the days that followed, it was determined that the Palistinian government had nothing to do with the assault on the damaged Akula, but it was a band of theives who seeking to end the war with Isreal, attempted to hijack the nuclear weapons on the downed Akula. How this would have taken place is not known, but fragments of oxygen tanks and diving masks were recovered from the 173's wreckage. Chris and Cameron were both honered with Navy purple medal of honor to service, and Cate with one for heroizm. Jim, O'Neil, and Zack were also honered for bailing the Russians from the sub, and Kelsie for her driving skills. The reader may probably like to know a bit of aftermath. First off, the Neptune was repaired, and given to a new skipper, after a new duct and sonar array was added. The Russian Akula was raised and after extensive repairs, brought back into service with Vadim back in command. William Petrov, however, left the North fleet and moved to the US, where he joined the teaching staff at West Point. Many other Russian crew members left for new jobs such as the Gold dredlocked guy. He also moved to the US and started up an amusement park called: "Rich would have hated this." Which soon took on Jim as an assistant manager. A male whore house was soon added. As for the crew of the SSBN Neptune, they were returned to them their old sub, the Dallas after an extensive overhaul for the sub to handle subarctic temp. But here is a scene a year after the Neptune pulled into dock.  
  
"Which way was that god damn exit ramp?" groaned Cameron. Chris and Alice moaned. "Your driving skills have still not improved!?!?" cried Alice. "We're never gonna make it to the receptian. Susie's gonna get pissy." Said Chris. It was the day Cameron had gotten married to Susan. But this time, Susan had opted to go in the Limo, while Cameron drove Chris and Alice to the receptian which was at the Kingsbay navy yard. The SUV's engine sputtered and died. Cameron sighed. "I'm not even going to comprehend on how that happened." Said Cameron as both Chris and Alice raised their wooden spoons to prepare to unmerciful beat down.  
  
  
  
The End.  
  
  
  
Authors note:  
  
Really something huh? I wrote 7 pages on a 5 hour flight from LA to NY. I have an hour or so left, and even less battaries on my dads laptop. I spent 2 weeks writing this and even though it doesn't match up to DR2, it is a sample of the knew writing skills used to make DR2. I hope you enjoyed reading my first piece in 4 months. Before I finish off the note, I'd like to thank some people. First, I'd like to thank B, who put up with the use of his name being captain, second, I'd like to thank the. kfbofbhaofaasd (turbulence!! Aaahhh!) slnfndslkf Pilots for such a smooth trip, And finally, Kelsie, who will probably praise me for giving her a role. 


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